


callisto amongst the stars

by sailorharry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Regency, Angst, Greek Mythology - Freeform, M/M, Mythical Beings & Creatures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-14
Updated: 2015-06-14
Packaged: 2018-04-04 09:36:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4132620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sailorharry/pseuds/sailorharry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A deer roams wild in the woods surrounding the Styles’ Manor. As heir to the estate, Harry is tasked to find and kill it, mount its head on the walls with the rest. He doesn’t expect to become side-tracked by a beautiful enigma named Niall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	callisto amongst the stars

“I’ve heard word from the maids of a deer sighting near the woods surrounding the estate.” Harry’s mother tells him when he enters the manor, knees dirty from polo and hair a mess. She is such an elegant lady, beautiful and kind-hearted and Harry presses a kiss to her cheek where she sits on the couch across from his step-father.

“Oh?” Harry murmurs as he shucks off his boots and drags mud across the carpet. “That’s strange.”

She doesn’t respond after that and Harry takes that as his sign to leave, leaping up the stairs and throwing off his jacket, only to be halted by his step-father’s next words.

“You should hunt it.” He says and Harry looks at him with wide, jade eyes as if it is the most ridiculous thing he has heard.

“Sorry?” Harry asks completely mortified, hand tight and sweaty where it grips the railings. 

“The deer.” Robin says casually. “You should hunt it and mount its head with the rest. Prove your worth to inherit the fortune.”

“I can’t kill a deer!” Harry cries out from the stairs. He’s never hunted in his life and he’d like to keep it that way. It’s a barbaric sport and Harry would much rather polo any day.

“Why not? It’s tradition.” Robin responds unperturbed, sipping tea from delicate china. It is tradition. This, Harry knows. Only those who can bring back the head of a beast can inherit the fortune but Harry has never cared for any amount of wealth.

He looks to his mother for support but she seems frozen in her seat, hands tight against her cup and eyes looking only forward. “I won’t do it. Do it yourself if you want its head so badly.” He spits and darts up towards his room, slamming the door on his way out. 

He hears voices down below muttering that he’s only child, that he’s only eighteen but Harry doesn’t care as he buries his face into a pillow and tries to brush away the images of the hunt burned fiercely in his mind from childhood. 

 

 

No one seems to understand Harry. Gemma tries to comfort him by carding her hand through his curls but she doesn’t understand. She’s already killed a stag and its head stands proudly in her room, its beady eyes hollow and dark and void of life. Even Louis tries to convince him to kill the beast and Harry groans at him, covers his ears and sings a tune out loud to drown out the noise.

“I don’t understand the big deal. It’s just a deer. Not a stag, like your sister’s. It’ll be easy.” Louis says when they’re out in the barn brushing their horses. Louis’ stallion is a magnificent beast, tall and dark and unnerving. He is untamed except in the hands of his master and Louis loves him all the more. Harry’s horse on the other hand is small and meek with spots littering its white coat but Harry finds him beautiful and timid and perfect for him.

“I don’t care about how hard it’ll be. I just don’t want to hunt it.” Harry fumes, explaining himself for the umpteenth time. “I don’t want to kill an innocent animal for sport or tradition or whatever it is.” He huffs and his horse mimics him before ducking its head to nuzzle into Harry’s curls in a comforting manner.

Louis rolls his eyes in response. “Yeah, yeah. I’ve heard this before.” He says and waves his hand in the air as if he could erase Harry’s words with a flick of his wrist. “But look Harry. Someone will end up killing that deer. Better you than someone else. You could do it quick and fast. Won’t hurt the thing at all.” 

It’s a convincing argument but Harry keeps his mouth tight and shut. He can’t kill an animal, he just doesn’t feel comfortable with it and how hard is it for people to understand this?

“Do it for your mother.” Louis says when the silence has stretched long enough. Harry freezes then but if Louis notices, he says no word of it and continues. “Don’t cause her trouble. You’re making it hard on her to balance her love for you and Robin.” 

It is hard for his mother, Harry’s seen it with his own eyes. Robin is so into tradition and high society and Harry is nothing like him. It’s hard for them to get along and Harry sees how difficult it is for his mother in the wrinkles by her eyes and her tight lipped smile. 

“Ugh.” Harry murmurs dejectedly. “Fine. Fine, I’ll… I’ll do it. God, you’re so manipulative.” He finally resigns, head hanging low and Louis leaps up into the air with his fist pumped up.

“Yes! You won’t regret this, mate. It’s so thrilling. About time you went on your first hunt!” He cheers and pats Harry on the back so hard his lanky legs trip over themselves and Harry is left with a mouthful of straw, a piercing laughter ringing in his ears and worry deep within his heart.

 

 

Harry thinks he’s dying. He’s sweating so much and his hands are shaky and his curls haven’t stayed in the same place for longer than two seconds. His boots are too tight where they meet his knees and Harry hasn’t shot an arrow since he was fourteen so how the hell is he supposed to kill a deer? This bow in his hands is not even his, taken from the family chambers and all he wants to do is run into his room and pretend he is six again so that his mum can come in and make in cocoa. But he’s not six anymore. He’s eighteen and he’s a man and he has to do this because it’s tradition and _‘don’t make this hard for your mother, Harry’._

Oh, his mother.

She looks so proud standing there, waiting for him to go off into the woods and kill the beast. She hasn’t looked this happy since Harry had lied and told her he approved of Robin that fateful night by the fire. Her smile is large and bright and Gemma mirrors her delight with a cheeky grin and a warm hug. Beside them, Robin stands tall and proud. He places a comforting hand against his back and for once, Harry thinks he understands him. 

“You’ll be fine, son.” He says and that word makes Harry light up inside, though nervous still. 

“Thanks.” He murmurs with a hand clasped tight around his bow and tries to breathe as his mother litters him with kisses and a tight embrace.

His steps are heavy as he walks further away from the manor, deeper into the dark of the woods. He gives his family one last wave before he submerges himself in the hold of the forest, heart beating in a steady rhythm. Dried mud and leaves crunch below his boots and every sound seems to spook him but Harry keeps his head forward and eyes straight. He leaves a trail of stones as he walks, feeling like Hansel, and hopes he doesn’t run into any witches. Light flitters through the leaves only just and it’s hard to see despite the day. God, this is so horrible. Someone save him. 

It feels like hours, Harry thinks. It probably has been but Harry continues to circle around the trees. His legs ache and he’s so tired and all he wants to do is – 

A sound, Harry hears. It’s slight but he can hear movement against the grass and the rustling of bushes. Harry begins to sweat again and his heart seems to fly out of his chest. 

He doesn’t know where he finds courage but it comes leaping out of him and soon Harry is making a dash towards the sound until he reaches a place where the sun shines bright. He readies his arrow, hands shaking so fast he can’t keep a steady aim, and hides himself within the bushes. Branches scratch at him but Harry couldn’t care less, eyes trained in from of him. Then, he sees it. A figure running into the clearing and Harry releases his arrow in a moment of panicked reflex.

Except he misses and the arrow goes flying into a tree trunk. And thank heavens he missed.

There is no deer in front of him, but there is a creature there. He is so beautiful, Harry thinks. His skin gleams white in the light of the sun and his hair shines like gold. Only then Harry realises that he is human.

Oh shit.

Harry leaps out from the bushes like a spring, tripping over himself to land in a heap. He tries to push himself up but his arrows fly out of his quiver. He’s shaking visibly now, because oh, he could have killed him!

“I’m so – I’m so sorry! I thought – a deer.” He splutters, gaze locked onto the grass because the boy in front of him is naked and bare and Harry has manners, thank you very much. 

The boy laughs at him, loud and boisterous and it rings in Harry’s ears and refuses to leave. “It’s alright.” He says, unnerved by his vulnerable naked state and who is this person who runs around in forests naked, laughing at people who nearly kill him?

“No, it’s not! I could have – I could have hurt you.” Harry says and he feels so horrible, a lump forming in his throat. He’s not ready to hunt, he knows this. God, he should have just stayed home and ignored Louis.

“But you didn’t.” The stranger says and helps Harry to his feet with warm hands and warmer smiles. “What’s your name?” He asks and Harry keeps his stare firmly on the blue sky peeking out from the arms of the trees.

“Harry.” He says. “Who – who are you? What are you doing here?” He wonders because there are so many questions running in his head and guilt seems to still linger, only just but still as potent.

“I’m Niall.” He says with a bright smile. “I was running away from some people.”

That only serves to pique Harry’s interest because who would be after a boy his own age, naked and seemingly harmless? A couple pictures run in his head, stories his mother once told him of ruthless men and cunning thieves. “Oh. Um. Are you fine now?” He asks and saves his other questions for later. It doesn’t seem right to pry into the life of someone he’d almost shot. 

“Yes.” Niall responds, still bright and cheery as if he didn’t just have a near death experience. 

There’s an awkward silence then as Niall stares at him with curious bright eyes, as Harry stands still with his eyes darting back and forth from the sky to the ground, never pausing on the person before him. “I’ll – uh – my house is close to here. I’ll take you there so you can wash up and rest.” Harry finally decides because it’s only polite and he can’t leave naked pretty boys alone in forests. 

Niall seems to pause for a moment to think but finally accepts his offer with a giant grin. “Thanks.” He responds but doesn’t move from his spot and Harry sighs to himself, wonders how he ever got into this situation.

“Follow me.” He says, draping his jacket over Niall to preserve some of his modesty. It’s oddly cute, Harry thinks, the way Niall totters after him with small steps like a baby deer. 

 

 

Harry isn’t exactly a discrete person. His steps are loud and he tumbles over air. So it isn’t a surprise he gets caught by Gemma half way up the stairs with Niall tucked behind him. 

“Did you get it?” She asks from the landing and Harry scratches his neck and tries to make himself as broad as possible so that Niall can remain out of sight.

“Uh. No, I didn’t.” He says and it sounds suspicious even to his ears. He’s never been good at lying. 

Gemma’s eyebrows rise up and she gives him that look, that same look she gives whenever Harry tries to hell her a joke. “What’s that then?” She says and points a finger at the shock of blond hair behind him.

“Um… this is… nothing.” He stutters and tries to push Niall back but Niall is stronger than he looks and before he knows it, Harry is being pushed aside to reveal a bright, eager face. 

“I’m Niall!” He says and Harry groans, trying to tug him back into position. He’s fast though and in a flash, he’s running down the stairs to stand in front of a very mortified Gemma.

“What!” She screeches and covers her eyes, a delicate blush gracing her face. “Harry what are –“

“Shush! Please don’t tell Mum.” Harry cuts in and races down after Niall, giving her his best pout. She ignores him though, her hand still over her eyes and Harry takes it as his cue to push Niall back behind him where he won’t offend women of high society. 

“Of course I’m telling Mum! You were supposed to hunt down a deer, not bring back a naked boy!” 

“He’s got a jacket on!” Harry tries to justify but shuts his mouth when Gemma finally takes her hand away from her face to glare at him menacingly.

“Harry!”

Harry sighs and tries to look as defeated as he can, curls up on himself so that Gemma will at least feel a little sorry for him. “Look, okay, I didn’t get the deer. I found him. He was in the woods. He was running away from some people after him.” He mutters. He thinks it’s working because Gemma pauses for a while, her mind running to find an excuse.

“You can’t just bring home strangers Harry! They could be dangerous.” She says and it makes Harry wants to laugh because Gemma has obviously run out of ideas. There’s no way Niall could be dangerous. Niall, who is all pale skin and lanky limbs and smiles like he’s swallowed the sun. 

“Gemma, you can’t just leave vulnerable people alone. Hasn’t Mum taught you better?” He mentions and it only helps to make Gemma glare harder, piercing and cold.

“Oh don’t play that card with me.” She says, arms crossed as if Harry isn’t getting to her, as if she’s made of stone. But Harry knows better. 

“Come on Gem. He’s just going to stay here for a bit, have a bath and some food.” He says, nudges her with his shoulder and gives her his best pout. It only takes a second for Harry to see she’s caved, her hands flying up in the air in exasperation.

“Oh, alright. Fine. But don’t let Mum find out. You’ll start rumours, bringing strange boys home.” She says carefully and Harry knows the warning in her words. He hasn’t told her his secret but she can read it on him, the way his eyes linger a little longer on the boys at polo than the pretty spectators watching, and he’s grateful that she’s kept it hidden. He gives her a small smile and she returns it, ruffles his hair before he bounds up the stairs with Niall following behind.

 

 

Harry thinks he might have picked up a working class boy. Not that it’s a bad thing, but it makes Harry wonder just how different their worlds are, how far apart. Niall seems amazed by warm water and jumps into the bath before Harry can excuse himself, soaking them both from head to toe. He smiles up at Harry through a fan of golden lashes and Harry can’t help but forgive him, despite water dripping from his curls. 

Niall seems even more amazed by the cotton towels and the clothes Harry gives him which are a bit big but fit well nonetheless. It’s as if he’s never even seen well spun cloth and it makes Harry ache thinking about Niall’s life of cold water and rags when he has never had to live a day out of comfort in his life. 

“Where are you from?” Harry decides to ask as Niall sits in front of the fire, fascinated. It’s cute, he thinks, how Niall seems to be impressed by everything. It’s refreshing from the privilege of the elite and Harry bathes in it for as long as he can. 

“The plains.” Niall responds and turns to look at him. The fire’s light catches in the blue of Niall’s eyes and Harry feels like he’s swimming in the pool by the manor on a summer’s evening. In that moment, Niall looks so other-worldly – not human at all but something much more abstract, almost fey.

“The plains? Where’s that?” Harry asks and sits himself beside Niall. 

“It’s a forest far from here.”

Harry finds himself leaning closer to Niall to hear his every word. They’re so close, he can see the light dancing against Niall’s skin as if it too is enraptured. “You live in a forest?” He murmurs and pictures a small hut in the middle of the woods, surrounded by trees and life and nature. Niall fits in so perfectly there and so out of place here, dressed in long boots and fine cotton and surrounded by carpets and furs.

“Yes.”

“Why’d you leave?”

“People were after me.” He explains and though it sounds so daunting, Niall’s smile never leaves him as he stares at Harry, unnerved by the heavy atmosphere that surrounds him. “I’m safe now though, I think.” He says and Harry swallows nervously and tries to focus on the carpet and not the way Niall’s looking at him, as if he has the world in his palms.

“Yeah – yes, you’re safe.” He says and Niall seems to relax and open up a little more, lies down on the carpet to stare by the fire. “You can – you can sleep on the bed if you’d like. I’ll take the couch.” He suggests but Niall laughs, eyes crinkling.

“Lie by the fire with me. It’s better.” He says and Harry can’t deny him that, lies down beside him beneath the warmth of the fireplace. He lies there beside Niall, just beside him. And they sleep together, in the most innocent sense of the word. Just sleep, beside a crackling fire with the moonlight against their skin. It’s nothing like his bed with its geese feathers and hand woven quilts. His back hurts and his neck starts to cramp but yes, he thinks. It is better here. 

 

 

When Harry wakes, it is late afternoon by the light streaming through his window and he is mortified. He’s slept half the day away and bolts up like lightning, rushing around to make himself presentable. Niall is gone but Harry is too flustered to take it in, raking his hand through his hair and sweeping ashes under the rug. The door crashes open then and Harry looks up with wide eyes to see Louis marching in.

“Harry, you idiot! Where were you today? Zayn and Liam won because you weren’t there!” Louis cries out, flopping himself down on Harry’s bed. He still has his riding boots on and his cap tucked under his arm and oh, Harry remembers. Polo.

“Sorry. I slept in.” Harry murmurs but Louis doesn’t take his excuse, gives Harry a punch when he sits himself down next to him.

“Can you believe that? Zayn won! Over me! I’m a laughing stock I hope you know now. You owe me big.” He says. “Why did you sleep in, anyway? That’s unlike you.” Louis adds but before Harry can even open his mouth to answer, a familiar face pops out of the bathroom door, naked as the day Harry found him.

“Hello!” Niall greets cheerily and makes his way to stand in front of Louis. Harry bolts up to stop him, embarrassed and completely out of his depth, but Louis is quicker on his feet and in a second he’s made his way across the room. He gapes openly at Niall, mouth wide enough to catch flies, and unashamedly looks him up and down. Louis turns to stare at Harry, then back at the person in front of him and back to Harry.

“Louis, please!” Harry exclaims but Louis shuts him up with a signature glare. For such a small person, his presence is so consuming and Harry shrinks under it.

“Who is this?!” He shouts loud enough to shake the manor and Harry winces, hopes his mother and Robin have already left for whatever important event they usually attend. 

“I’m Niall.” Niall greets ever cheerfully, unaffected by Louis and god, is he even human?

“Yes, that explains a lot blondie.” Louis mutters under his breath and rolls his eyes. “Harry?”

Harry freezes then, his mind trying to think of an explanation. “I… Give me a second.” He murmurs sheepishly, hand scratching the back of his neck and Louis seems to self-combust.

“You can’t do this Harry! Don’t you know what happened to that writer who was found mingling with other men?” He explodes and yes, yes he knows exactly what happened. It was the biggest news to hit the London social elite last year because people started realising they could get caught and Harry found his type unwanted. “You could end up in jail! It’s against the law!”

“I’m not – we’re not – we’re friends. He was alone in the forest and I just decided to help him.” Harry tries to explain but it’s hard when his mind is reeling, fogged from sleep, and Louis’ voice is so loud.

“Harry!” Louis cries out again and Harry sighs, defeated, and sinks back into the bed. Niall’s gone to poke at the fireplace again, as if they aren’t just talking about him in front of him, and what a mess he’s gotten himself in.

“I know, I know. I’m just helping him, alright? Only for a while until he can get back on his feet. People were – people were after him.” Harry says and runs a hand across his face, 

“Great. Associating yourself with runaways now. What a fan-fucking-tastic idea.”

“I don’t think – I think other people were after him, Lou. Ah – people with unsavoury intentions.” Harry says suggestively because he doesn’t want to – he can’t – say it out loud. A naked boy his age lost in a forest with men chasing after them. It isn’t too hard to figure out. 

Louis seems to get him though because in an instant, his face softens and his eyes wander back and forth, lost. It’s heavy and awkward between them and the silence stretches out before Louis can find his words. “Oh. Um.” He says quietly and sinks beside the figure on the floor. “I’m Louis. You’re Neil?” Louis is so gentle in that moment and Harry remembers then that Louis is a big brother to a large family of siblings, fiercely protective and intensely loyal. 

Niall turns to grin at him, bright and cheery as always with that little hint of mischievousness. “Niall.” He corrects and Harry sees the moment Louis warms up to him, caught and caged in a trap.

“Alright, I’ll keep your dirty little secret Harry Styles. Only because you’re my best friend.” He says, gaze never leaving Niall. There is a fondness in the way he looks at him and perhaps there’s something about Niall that evokes the protective instincts in the people he meets.

“Thanks Louis.” Harry says, ever grateful, but Louis gaze becomes hard when he turns to stare at him.

“But you better be careful. Rumours spread and if people are after him, they’ll be after you.” He warns and Harry understands. It’s a cross he has carried for a long time and Harry is used to living with secrets. 

 

 

Louis and Niall surprisingly get along. They’re both loud and annoying and incredibly energetic. Louis teaches Niall how to play football and though Niall trips over his feet a couple times, he soon gets the hang of it. Harry watches afar from beneath a tree because according to Louis, Harry is a terrible player and should just cheer them on instead of getting his feet tangled like an idiot. They stay like that for well until dark, Louis hooking his arm around Niall’s neck in a goodbye and waving to that lanky form beneath the leaves.

It’s just the two of them then and Niall runs up to him, sweaty and stained with dirt from his forehead to his knees. “’m sorry I got your clothes dirty.” He says, not looking the least bit sorry and flops himself beside Harry. 

“It’s alright.” He says, staring down at Niall who looks so peaceful against the green grass, lashes fanning over his cheeks. It catches him by surprise when Niall’s eyes open suddenly and Harry finds himself trapped in lake, clear yet daunting all the same. 

A blush creeps up Niall’s cheeks, blooming down to his neck and Harry swallows audibly. What he’d do to see how far that blush reached south. “I should – I should go back now. Thanks for – for helping me.” Niall mutters, sitting up and brushing himself off. 

It catches Harry so off guard and he’s fumbling to stand up, knees shaky. “No, no it was fine. Um. Are you sure? Is it safe?” He asks because people may still be after Niall and Harry doesn’t feel comfortable leaving him alone. 

“I think so. I’ll be fine.” Niall says with a small grin but Harry doesn’t believe him. He looks so vulnerable like this, with grass buried in his wheaten hair and mud streaked against his skin.

“You can – you can stay here a little longer. If you want.” Harry suggests, partly because it’s the polite thing to do, more so because he needs to know Niall, needs to know more about this boy who runs with the wind and rolls in the fields. “Stay here.” He says, a little firmer when Niall doesn’t seem convinced and suddenly Harry is blinded by a giant grin.

“Alright.” Niall says softly, though it echoes in the quiet evening. Harry is drawn to Niall then, by the breeze sweeping through his hair and the night dancing in his eyes. He leans closer, ever so slowly, feels himself caught in a trance suddenly broken when Niall laughs loudly in his face, spit flying and hitting Harry right on the cheek. 

“C’mon.” Niall says, pulling Harry up by the hand. “Let’s play football. I want to see how bad you are for myself.” And Harry follows blindly, finds he can’t deny Niall even this.

 

 

It’s when Niall’s worn the same pair of his clothes for the seventh day in a row that Harry decides to take him to the city. Niall’s drenched in sweat from running around the gardens – Harry’s realised he can’t be contained – and his trousers are caked in a layer of mud and grass stains. Niall doesn’t seem to care, climbs up the tree Harry sits under and throws leaves at him until they get lost in his head of curls.

“Do you want to go get some new clothes?” Harry asks, staring up at Niall where he sits on a branch, laughing with the light streaming down on him.

“Hm?” He hums for a while, lifting up his shirt to take a whiff of his clothes. “No, this is fine.”

“I could take you to the city?” Harry suggests absentmindedly, wondering whether purple would look good on Niall. No, maybe green? Turquoise? 

“The city? Where the people are?” Niall asks before Harry’s mind can wonder too far towards silks and velvets and oh, who was that new designer Gemma told him about?

“Yes, of course.” He answers and like a spring, Niall leaps down from the trees in front of Harry, gaze wide and bright.

“Let’s go right now!” He says, pulling Harry up by the arm and Harry can’t help but break out into a grin. Harry leads him by the hand stealthily to the back of the manor to the stables where the horses are kept and breathes easy when he sees the stable boys have long gone. He doesn’t need people asking him questions about rosy-cheeked blond haired boys. 

“Oh.” He hears Niall sigh behind him and when he turns to look at him, his face is a picture of awe. “They’re beautiful.” He says so quietly, almost a whisper and slowly approaches a brown horse, running his fingers over its coat. 

Niall looks so amazed, as if he has never seen anything like it. “Do you want to ride one?” Harry suggests and watches as Niall’s head tilts adorably. 

“Ride one?” 

“Yes. Like this.” Harry says and swiftly mounts his own speckled horse in one, smooth motion. But Harry is still Harry and when he tries to rest his feet on the stirrup, he slips and almost tumbles off his stallion. Heat rushes to his head so fast he feels almost dizzy but Niall’s boisterous laugh keeps him grounded, like thunder in the stables. 

“Don’t they get tired? Aren’t they hurt?” Niall asks once his sides have stopped twitching from laughter. 

“It’s fine. We feed them and take care of them.” Harry says dismissively. A thought creeps into Harry’s mind, about Niall and why it seems as if he has never seen a horse before. If he is a working class boy, then surely where he works should be full of them. It is a mere thought and he crushes it as easily as it was formed. 

Instead, Harry watches the way Niall’s face lights up as if he had been carved from the sun. “Wow! Yes! Won’t you teach me?” He asks excitedly, jumping on the spot and Harry laughs at his eagerness. Niall is an open book, a boy who hasn’t been trained to hide his thoughts or bite his tongue and it’s a breath of fresh air for Harry who has been raised with a silver spoon in his mouth. Tight lipped mouths and haughty smirks can only be entertaining for so long. 

“Of course.” He says and moves to grab Niall’s waist. Harry pushes him up onto his horse with gentle hands and though Niall may be knobby knees and skinny legs, it’s still a challenge getting him up there. Harry huffs once Niall has grabbed onto the horse’s neck for dear life, a little sweaty, before mounting again to sit behind him. Niall’s face is still a picture of awe but he sways back and forth nervously and Harry has to press his back against his chest to make sure he doesn’t fall off. 

“Just relax.” He says and waits for Niall to lean back against him. He grabs the reins then and presses a mischievous smile against wheaten hair. With a tight grip on the reins, Harry pulls harshly and feels rather than sees his horse break into a gallop, rushing out the stable and into the open air with a force that nearly knocks Niall off.

“Harry!” He screeches out, moving forward to wrap his body around the horse’s neck, but Harry only laughs, feeling freer than he has ever felt with the wind under his arms and heat fluttering against his skin.

“Just hold on!” He grins and they go galloping off towards the city with the world at their feet and their problems far behind. 

 

 

The city is all pebbled stone and pluming clouds of smoke. There’s a constant sea of people wherever they go and Harry has to hold on tight to Niall’s hand to make sure he doesn’t get washed away. Harry thinks he’s been stepped on four times, nearly pushed over about ten and he considers himself lucky as he weaves around slops of rubbish and horse shite. Probably the only decent thing about it all is the way Niall presses himself tight against Harry’s back and wraps his arms around him, his warmth comforting against the chill of London’s air. 

“It smells here. I don’t like it.” Niall complains into Harry’s coat, breathing in deeply. 

“It’s the factories.” Harry replies, one hand wrapped around Niall and the other around a box of new clothing. 

Niall only groans at him and buries his head deeper and Harry chuckles, deep and loud despite the booming of the city. “It’s gross. I feel sick. Take me home?” 

“Just bear with it a little more? I’ll show you the markets.” Harry says gently, patting his arm in a soothing manner before practically dragging him towards the stalls lined up. “Look!” He says and pulls Niall off him, steering that head of blond hair towards the market street. Niall’s face instantly lights up again at the sight and he runs to the nearest one, pushing through the crowd. 

“Oh! Oh Harry, this is beautiful!” He says, picking up a small chest with reverent hands and lifting it up into the air. Music plays mutedly from inside and Harry opens it up, watching the way Niall near bowls himself over with excitement from the explosion of sound. 

“Do you want it?” Harry offers with a grin but he’s already handing over some coins to the vendor and pushing Niall back down the street. 

“Where’s that sound coming from?” Niall says as he presses the chest close to his ears. He looks so amazed and Harry is taken by him, by the way he gleams beneath the London fog. 

“The music box, of course.”

Niall gasps, eyes nearly popping out of his head. He lifts the box up and down, examining it from side to side as if it were some strange animal and not something Harry has thousands of stuffed somewhere in his house. “That’s amazing! How does it work?” 

“I don’t know. Gears and all that.” Harry replies, waving his hand in the air dismissively. He’s never cared for that kind of craft and though he respects it, he doesn’t understand why Niall is so amazed. Harry has so many other things he could give to him worth plenty more than a cheap music box carved from common wood. 

Niall breaths out harshly before clutching the box tightly to his chest. “Is it mine?” He asks, as if he doesn’t believe it, as if he has never had something to call his own in his life and Harry feels his chest tighten.

“It’s yours.” He nods, lifting his hand to brush away snow from Niall’s hair. If his touch lingers too long, Harry is too enamoured to care. 

“Thank you Harry!” Niall grins brightly at him, throwing himself into warm arms and Harry presses a smile against his hair in return. Niall could ask for the world and Harry wouldn’t be able to deny him that. It’s something he knows he should be worried about – this seemingly common boy and his unrelenting hold over him. He knows he should be worried but it’s so hard to care when Niall is looking up at him with rosy cheeks and oh, if this is what it means to be trapped then he never wants to be let free. 

 

 

It’s when Louis comes barging into his room the following day that Harry knows he’s in trouble. His face is dark like a storm, his mouth twisted in an ugly scowl and Harry is glad Niall isn’t here to witness this, far away in the stables with the horses. “Louis!” He calls out, hands outstretched in a placating manner. “What’s wrong?”

“Don’t you ‘what’s wrong’ me!” Louis spits back at him and Harry has always known him to be a hot head, but he has never seen him like this – as if his bones were fire and his stare coal. “I told you to be careful Harry.” He continues, jabbing Harry in the shoulder with each syllable. “I head you took Niall out to the city yesterday?”

Oh. _Oh._ Shit.

“How did you – “ He begins but Louis cuts him off with his signature glare before flopping onto his bed, boots and all. 

“People talk. They do little else. Rumours are spreading. I mean, not bad ones. Just that you’ve made acquaintances with an unfamiliar boy. But they’ll get worse.” Harry doesn’t know what to say. He knew people talk but he didn’t think – he didn’t think he wouldn’t even be able to go out with Niall. Harry’s throat feels tight and his chest heavy and he finds he can’t lift his gaze from the floor. He wants to apologise but he doesn’t know what for. He doesn’t regret a single second with Niall and oh, perhaps he should reserve his apologies for everyone else, for all those snarky people who can’t mind their own business, who can’t leave him alone and let him be happy for once in his life. 

“You have to be careful, Harry. If people – if people get the idea that you… that you’re…” Louis trails off awkwardly, flapping a hand in the air as if that will finish off his words. But Harry’s glad he doesn’t finish. Walls have ears and Harry already knows what he is and who he is. “You’re going to end up hurting more than yourself. You’ll probably get a slap on the wrist, maybe barred from a couple social events and have the Styles’ name tattered a little around the edges. But that’s nothing. What about Niall? Niall’s not old money, he’s a country boy. He doesn’t have a name and a status to protect him. He’ll get eaten out there. I don’t think he’ll survive prison.”

No, Harry thinks. He wouldn’t, and the mere image of Niall who is all summer breeze and climbing trees locked in a cell of wolves makes him want to puke. “I – I get you, Louis.” He says but his eyes sting with tears and his gaze never lifts from the ground. 

“Do you? Do you really?” Louis asks and he sounds so soft now, as if he’s talking to a wounded animal and Harry knows he pities him. 

“Yes. Yes I promise I’ll be more careful.” He replies but it comes out quiet and barely there. He sniffles to himself and wipes his nose on the sleeve of shirt and he feels so embarrassed but half of him is too focused on himself to care. When Louis moves to place a comforting hand on his shoulder, Harry lets him and leans into the touch. 

“Good. You better mean it, Styles.” He says gently and flashes a grin in hopes Harry will follow suit. He does, if only just, and Louis knocks him affectionately on the head before pushing him out the wooden doors. “Now let’s get your ass whipped in football.”

Harry manages to let out a small chuckle at that because of course, Louis’ mind is made up of friends and football and he’s glad to have someone like him in his life. Of course, Louis’ words still burn in his ears and Harry buries them deep, lets them sleep until he has the strength to deal with them. 

 

 

It seems like nobody wants to leave Harry alone. Between Louis’ lectures and Gemma’s constant watching, he realises only the night welcomes him and Niall with its peaceful embrace. The second he races down the stairs to bring up Niall some food, his mum stops him in his tracks with a gentle hand. She smiles up at him lovingly and presses a kiss against his temple like always. She’s been checking up on him a lot less and Harry is grateful for that. It’s nice that someone notices that he’s fine and happy and lets him be. 

“Harry, darling? Have you made progress on the deer?” She asks him and Harry’s eyes widen almost comically.

“The deer? Oh!” He says and shite, he’d forgotten all about that dumb deer. How long has it been now? Harry’s been so occupied lately, he hasn’t even stepped back into the woods since the first time. God, Robin is going to kill him. “Uh, no. I think it’s run away.” He says and it’s not exactly a lie. He _does_ think it’s probably run away by now. What dumb deer would stay so long in human territory anyway?

“No, preposterous.” A voice calls out and Harry watches Robin enter the room with the latest newspaper in hand. “I’ve heard word that it’s even closer to our borders now. Been sighted quite frequently as well.” Harry groans into his hand but his mother slaps it away before he can do anything more. 

“You should hurry, Harry. It’s toying with us, thinking it can stay this close.” Robin adds and Harry almost loses his mind. He splutters around, waving his hands in the air as if he can’t even believe what’s just been said.

“It’s a deer!” He exclaims exasperatedly. A goddamn deer people need to leave alone but obviously, people doesn’t include Robin because he only stares pointedly at Harry beneath his spectacles. 

“They’re smarter than you think.” He says and oh Christ, Harry thinks he’s going to snap. But his mother reaches out to stroke his hair and her stare is a silent plead he can’t refuse. 

Harry rubs his hands over his face and lets out a sigh. “Alright, I – I’ll go now.” He says. He looks tired and waned but the smile his mother sends him brightens him up. 

“Thank you.” She whispers into his ear and he kisses her cheek before trudging back up the stairs into his room. 

Niall is still sitting there on his bed, playing with his music box and looks so confused when Harry begins packing his satchel. “Where are you going?” He asks, head tilting adorably to the side. 

“To the woods.” Harry replies and Niall practically leaps off the bed and into Harry’s arms. Harry can’t help but laugh at him, the way he bounds and bounces across the room at the word of something interesting. 

“Woods?” He says, jumping on the spot. “Can I come?”

He looks so excited and oh, how could he ever say no? “Of course. I’m not going there for fun though. I have work to do.” He tells him and Niall’s face scrunches up as if he’d just eaten something sour. 

“Work?” He says, the word bitter in his mouth and he sticks his tongue out. “Can’t you do that later? I want to show you around.”

Harry knows he should say no. He’s put off catching this deer for so long and he doesn’t need Robin hanging on his back any longer. If he doesn’t do it now, when will he ever? “Alright, I guess.” Harry says instead and feels the need to kick himself in the face. “It better be worth it though.” He grumbles and Niall laughs at him, takes him by the hand to sneak out the estate, out of sight from watchful stares. 

“Trust me, you’ll have never seen something so magical.” He tells him and Harry wonders how much that can be true, wonders if he’ll ever see anything or anyone more magical than Niall. 

 

 

They spend almost half an hour wandering in the woods with Niall leading them and Harry’s beginning to realise that the boy has no sense of direction. They trek through mud and vines, over uprooted branches and sharp rocks. Harry tears one of his boots on a jagged boulder and his shirt on a tree branch and when his curls end up tangled on the thorn of a vine he decides it’s time to speak up. “Um.” He says, clearing his throat, but before he can say anymore, Niall cuts him off. 

“Shut up.” He says, glaring back at him and Louis has really been rubbing off on him, from what Harry can tell. 

Harry pretends to be affronted, placing a hand to his chest. “I didn’t say anything!” He splutters but Niall only rolls his eyes at him.

“I could hear you thinking.” He says, turning around to poke him at the temple for emphasis. He grabs Harry’s hand with a warm touch and drags him faster to who knows where. They stumble over another pile of rocks, weave around hundred year old trees before Niall stops suddenly and Harry crashes into him with a dull thud. 

“Niall…” He groans out, head falling to rest on Niall’s shoulder. Shit, they’re lost and he knew it, he knew he shouldn’t have let Niall direct them. Niall couldn’t even make it to the stables without making a detour. 

Niall must sense his panic because he only laughs and points up ahead. “Don’t worry, we’re not lost. Look!” He says excitedly, almost thrumming in Harry’s arms and – 

Oh. _Oh._

It’s absolutely breathtaking. Up ahead is a clearing where a lake glistens beneath the sunlight flittering through the trees. The sound of the running water is hypnotising and the water is so clear Harry can see his reflection. 

“I never knew there was a lake here.” He says, kneeling by the lake and dipping his fingers into the cooling water. He wonders how Niall knows the woods so well because not once has he ever heard from anybody of a lake hidden between masses of trees and vines. 

“Not many do. Isn’t it nice?” Niall says and before Harry has a chance to stand, a giant splash soaks him through.

Harry splutters and coughs and when he can finally open his eyes, Niall is paddling in the water. “N-Niall! What are you doing?” Harry stutters out, wondering when Niall had stripped himself bare. He silently thanks whatever deity it is that gave Niall the sense to keep his pants on.

“Bathing?” Niall replies, as if it was obvious and Harry gasps exasperatedly. 

“But that’s – it’s –“

“It’s fine. A bit chilly, but it’s good! You should try.” Niall suggests, swimming around in circles and if Harry’s gaze lingers a bit too long on his surprisingly hairy chest, he doesn’t say a word. 

The water is clean enough, Harry thinks, and Niall looks so relaxed floating on its surface Harry can’t help but want to join. Hesitantly, he strips himself of his own clothing, folding it neatly and placing it down next to Niall’s mess of clothes. He dips his feet in the water first and at the sound of Niall’s _‘hurry up’_ , slides himself in one smooth motion.

The moment Harry turns around, he’s met with a mouthful of water spat in his face and a cheeky smile. “Gross.” Harry says, sticking his tongue out and Niall laughs at him and pecks him on the nose teasingly. 

“You’re gross.” He replies swimming off and Harry chuckles with him and chases him around the lake until the sun settles down. 

 

 

They only emerge from the water dripping and soaking wet once the moon is high up in the sky. Harry lays out his jacket as a makeshift blanket and they lie there beside each other, gazing up at the sky. It’s so peaceful and Harry has never felt so calm, just lying with Niall and feeling the breeze against his skin. He thinks he could stay forever like this.

“What are those, Harry?” Niall says suddenly, pointing up at the infinite space above. 

“What?”

“Those lights in the sky at night.”

“Oh.” Harry breathes out. “They’re stars.” Strange, how Niall has never heard of stars. Then again, he’d probably have no need for that kind of knowledge.

Niall hums again to himself and Harry recognises the tune as the one from his music box. “Do people become stars when they die?” He perks up again and he’s blushing now, a bit shy as he glances towards the ground. “I was told – I heard people talking about that.”

Harry’s heard that tale before too when he was young but he’d stop believing in those things ages ago. It’s so endearing, the way Niall’s perspective of the world is still coloured with a childlike imagination. “No, but their stories end up out there.” He replies, pointing out a familiar pattern of stars his tutor had taught him as a child. Astronomy has always interested Harry, fascinating and mysterious. “Like that, that’s a constellation. It forms a picture. It’s a bear, can you see?” He says and fondly watches Niall’s face scrunch up cutely as he tries to imagine a bear.

“No. It’s just a bunch of stars. You’re crazy.” Niall points out.

“No, it really is a bear! It has a story. I’ll tell you about it one day.” Harry promises and Niall nods, smiles sweetly at him and laces their fingers together. 

 

 

A hot summer’s day and Harry won’t let Niall go outside because the _‘sun will burn you’_ and _‘I don’t want you getting faint’._ They spend the day inside, sticky and sweaty and Harry spends it feeling guilty as Niall stares at him with a scrunched up mouth and piercing glare. Harry tries to show Niall all the things in his room, his chest of clothes and porcelain figurines, but Niall couldn’t care less and he shoves them all into the corner like a spoilt child. 

“I’m sorry.” Harry says when Niall sticks his tongue at him, huddled by the window. “Please sit with me.” He says and feels a small sense of victory well up when Niall finally looks at him. Harry counts to seventeen before Niall finally moves from his pile of cushions to kneel on his bed beside him. His gaze never wavers and he looks like an owl with his wide blue eyes and small, pretty mouth. 

“What’s wrong Niall? What’s wrong?” He asks when Niall leans in closer to him until Harry can count the freckles on his face and the eyelashes that flutter against his cheeks. Niall seems undisturbed, lost in a trance as his stare drills holes into his skin and Harry flushes pink from its weight. 

“You’re really pretty.” Niall whispers and Harry’s nose twitches from the breath that fans across his face, reminding him of citrus fruits and summer. 

He leans back until he hits the headboard, nervous. “Thanks.” He says as he keeps his gaze fixed on the bedsheets and not the pretty boy in front of him, all pink cheeks and bright smiles. Niall only moves closer until their knees are touching and Harry feels himself shiver. 

“And you’re really nice. Why don’t you have a mate?” He asks. _Mate._ It’s a strange word to use but perhaps that’s the term the working class use for a partner, Harry thinks. 

“Um… I’m not… I’m pretty young so I don’t really…” He trails off because Niall’s eyes are such a clear blue and Harry is afraid of drowning. 

“Is that all? You’re too young?”

“Well… I also don’t…” Harry stammers and clears his throat. Palms sweaty and he thinks he can taste blood. He’s not sure if – if he should say. But Niall probably knows or he probably doesn’t care and oh, wouldn’t it be amazing if he was like him too? “My taste differs. I don’t like the people I’m supposed to like.” The moment the words spill out of him, Harry studies Niall intently – but he is still wide-eyed and dainty mouthed and relief floods Harry like summer rain. 

“You like me?” Harry nods. “Are you supposed to like me?”

“No. Not at all.” He says, his throat tight and voice small and it is the truth. Not at all, not if he wants to survive in this world where wolves swallow you whole and desire is a sin worthy of being burned at the stake for. But Niall doesn’t sense his discomfort and leans closer towards him until their noses are only millimetres apart and Harry’s breath hitches in his throat. 

“I like you.” Niall whispers and oh shit, Harry thinks he’s about to die because he’s so, so sweaty and his throat feels like it’s in a vice and oh, is his head supposed to feel this hot?

“Niall – “ He chokes out but before he can finish, cool lips press against his own and Harry melts into its touch. He can’t help it, the way he pushes against Niall desperately until Niall falls against the bed and Harry is hovering over him. Niall presses kitten licks against his neck, hot and wet, and threads one hand in Harry’s curls, the other beneath his shirt. His hands are so cold, so cooling against the heat of his skin and Harry groans into his touch. 

“You’ve done this before?” He asks because Niall’s hands seem so experienced, the way they move to tear open his trousers and push up his shirt. 

“It’s instinct for me. Animalistic.” He murmurs and Harry has never heard him sound so quiet. Harry doesn’t know what that means, whether it’s his first time or not – but he finds he couldn’t care less when Niall is laid out so vulnerable in front of him. “You have something? Honey? Sap?” He asks, his gaze never leaving the green one in front of him and Harry has to remind himself to breathe. 

“Oil. I have oil.” Harry rasps out and forces himself to sit up and rummage his bedside table for the vial. 

“Good, I’ll need that.” Niall says with a cheeky smirk, pulling down his trousers and pants and snatching the vial from Harry’s hands. Harry watches, hypnotised, as Niall pours oil onto his fingers and reaches behind him and – 

Oh, fuck.

Harry’s dick is throbbing in his pants, hard and leaking through. His cheeks are bright pink as he watches Niall’s fingers slip in and out of him in a steady rhythm. Harry can’t help it – he palms himself through his trousers and groans when Niall speeds up, three fingers inside himself. He can’t believe someone who looked so innocent a moment ago can now be the perfect picture of a little harlot. Niall’s moans echo inside the room and Harry can’t take it anymore. He pulls down his trousers and his pants along with to wrap a hand around his leaking cock, gathering pre-cum at the slit to jerk himself off fast and desperate. 

A flittering laugh rings out and oh, only Niall could laugh in a situation like this. Harry licks his parched lips and watches Niall crawl towards him on his knees and wrap his own slicked hand around Harry’s cock. 

“Lie back.” He says and Harry obliges, lying down on the bed as Niall strokes him with eager fingers. He can hear the bed creak when Niall moves above him, that mischievous smile seemingly permanent on his face. Warm lips graze against his skin and teeth nip at his collarbone and shit, Harry thinks he’s dying. When Niall looks up at him through pale lashes, he’s not sure whether the devil has come to claim his soul or an angel has granted him mercy. 

Niall’s fingers never leave Harry’s dick and suddenly, Harry feels himself poking at Niall’s dripping entrance. He wants to tell Niall to wait, to ask him and make sure this is what he wants but the words are stolen from him the moment Niall sinks down, achingly slow and Harry is consumed by an enveloping heat. 

“Niall – oh god. Oh Christ. You’re – you’re so – ” He groans, hands so tight against Niall’s hips they must be bruising. But Niall hushes him with a gentle kiss and bites softly at the shell of his ear.

“You talk too much.” He says, moving down to take all of Harry in and Harry can feel the way his muscles flutter around his dick sporadically. Fuck, he’s not going to last long. “Just relax, breathe. Your body will know what to do.” Niall says and Harry finally tears his eyes away from where they join to look at Niall. He is so beautiful, his golden hair like a halo and his body sheening from sweat. Harry has never felt more in love and he takes Niall’s hand in his to press reverent kisses against his palm.

Loving Niall will kill him – this is a fact Harry knows. But then, Harry wasn’t very much alive to begin with, with his secrets buried deep and oh, if this is how he dies, let it be known he died happy. 

 

 

Harry knows every night Niall leaves the estate. He doesn’t know where and he never asks. Niall probably needs some space by himself. It must be hard for him to be thrown into Harry’s world and expected to adapt so Harry has left him be, pretending to sleep whilst the other crawls out the window and out into the open air.

But tonight is different. Harry wants to sleep with Niall in his arms, feel his warmth and hear his heart beat beneath him. He feels so attached, he doesn’t want even a second away from him. Harry knows it’s silly how deep he has fallen. But Niall is his now, and he is Niall’s and is it too much to want to have him close to him, to wake up with his scent on the sheets? So when Niall makes his way to the window with hushed steps, Harry finally breaks his silence. 

“Where do you go at night?” He asks from the bed and watches the other flinch in surprise and turn around to stare at him. God, he is so beautiful like that. Pale beneath the moonlight and Niall’s skin seems to glow and turn alive. He is so haunting and Harry can’t look away. 

“Outside. I’m not used to being inside all the time.” He explains, walking back to the bed to sit beside Harry. He reaches out a hand and strokes his cheek tenderly and Harry melts into his touch.

Outside. Just outside. He is so vague and Harry doesn’t like how much he doesn’t know about Niall when Niall knows so much about him. So many secrets and Harry wants to know them all, wants to lay bare all his wounds and kiss them better. “You should be careful. I don’t want – “

“I’m fine. I don’t go that far from the manor.” Niall cuts him off. The sound of his voice sounds strange to Harry’s ears. It echoes in the silence night brings and reminds him of chiming bells. And yet, it is flat and cold and nothing at all like the voice he has engraved into his memory. 

“You should bring a coat, it’s cold.” Harry insists, getting up to grab one for him but Niall places a gentle hand on his bare chest and pushes him back down. 

“I’ll be fine.” He says but his gaze is back on the window where the moon is shining through and the trees are rustling below. Suddenly, Harry begins to feel inadequate. 

“Can I – Can I come with you? Please?” He asks because he wants to know at least where Niall goes and what it is Harry can’t give him. 

Niall shakes his head but squeezes Harry’s hand gently, comfortingly before Harry’s heart has a chance to sink. “You shouldn’t follow me. Stay here, it’s safe.”

“It’s not safe where you go?”

“Safe for me, not for you.” He tells him and it sounds like a lie. If anything, Harry’s the one who’ll be safer. He can use a bow and arrow and Niall can hardly walk a few steps with his satchel before stumbling over. “Go to sleep. I’ll be back when the sun wakes.” Niall says, making his way off the bed but Harry’s hand shoots out to grab him.

“No. Stay, just this once.” He pleads almost desperately. From the way Niall glances back out the window, Harry thinks for a second he won’t listen. But then Niall turns back to look at him and he smiles and the spell is broken and this is the Niall Harry recognises. Harry lifts up the sheets and Niall snuggles beneath them. 

“Alright. Okay.” He whispers and buries his head against Harry’s neck. Wrapping his arms around Niall, Harry holds him tight. The beat, beat, beating of his heart lulls him to rest and Harry sleeps with a smile on his face and the world in his arms. 

 

 

Morning comes too soon for Harry. The light from the sun burns brightly and Harry groans, rolls over to throw a hand over Niall’s waist.

Only, Niall isn’t there and it’s then that Harry hears familiar voices in his room. Immediately, he shoots up, blinking his eyes to adjust to the light and – 

Oh, fucking shit. 

“Looks like those rumours were true.” His mother says solemnly. She looks like she’s been crying, her eyes red and puffy, and Robin stands beside her comfortingly. But it’s the figure in the corner that catches Harry’s attention the most.

Niall looks so small, standing as close to the walls as he can, as if he is an unwanted guest, an intruder. To Robin and his mother, he probably is. He looks frightened. His eyes dart to a different spot every five seconds and he can’t look at Harry at all. Niall’s hands never leave his mouth as he furiously bites his nails and Harry wonders if he too has been crying by the way Niall hiccups irregularly. Harry aches and he moves to comfort Niall. 

“Don’t.” His mother says and her voice is stern and nothing like before. It stops Harry in his tracks.

“Mum! I – ” He tries but she shakes her head and moves to leave the room with Robin. 

“Come with me please.” She says. Harry doesn’t want to follow at all. He wants to tuck Niall into bed and hold him close and kiss him until he smiles again.

But Harry also doesn’t want to make this any worse. So he follows her with heavy steps, pulling up his trousers along the way and leaves his heart waiting for him in his room frightened and alone in a corner. 

 

 

How many hours pass, Harry doesn’t know. He only knows that by the time he’s dismissed by Robin and his mother, the sun has begun to set. It wasn’t pleasant at all and their voices still bounce around his head in a chaotic storm but he pushes that away for now. He could hardly take in a word of what they were saying when his mind was filled with pictures of Niall, so vulnerable by himself.

Harry sprints towards his room the moment they let him be, bounding up the stairs in strides. His blood is thrumming in his veins and Harry feels sick, so sick, but he knows no matter what his mother might say, he won’t stop seeing Niall. He made up his mind long ago and he doesn’t expect it to change. 

When he reaches his room, Niall is sitting outside his door, staring blankly at the walls. He hastily gets up the moment he notices Harry and he is still jittery and shaking when Harry comes to scoop him up in his arms. Harry kisses him deeply, all tongue and teeth and oh, Niall tastes so wonderful, so sweet and Harry would give up everything for him. But Niall pushes him away. Gently, but he pushes him away all the same and Harry can’t help feeling a little wounded. 

“I think,” Niall begins, his gaze trained on Harry’s chest. His breath is ragged and he looks to ruined, all cautious glances and misty eyes and Harry throbs dully all over. “I think it’s better if I leave.”

He’s joking of course, Harry thinks. The idea is ridiculous and he laughs it off, waves his hand in the air as if the motion will sweep everything under the rug. “No, Niall don’t be silly.” He says, shaking his head but Niall only bites his lip and continues. 

“No I – I think…”

“Niall, don’t. Don’t do this.” He says, a little more stern and his fingers press hard from where they grab Niall by the arms. No, don’t do this. Harry doesn’t think he’ll survive this. 

“I don’t want you to – people talk. I don’t want you to get hurt.” Niall says. His voice is so quiet, Harry has to lean in to hear and he has never seen Niall looking so terrifyingly wrecked in his life. 

“Niall – ”

“Please let me leave.” He pleads and Harry purses his lips, feeling his insides start eating themselves away. Death has nothing on this, he thinks and shit, he’s definitely crying now, tears pooling and falling rapidly like a waterfall. 

“No, I can’t. Not because of this, not for me.” He hiccups and he can’t even hide his tears anymore. He sniffles and tries to suck them back up but he can’t stop, he can’t stop, he can’t and it only makes it worse, the way Niall reaches up to wipe them away with his hand. 

“Will you come find me?” Niall asks, trying his best to muster up a weak smile. 

“Niall – “

“Will you come find me?” And god, what a ridiculous question because everybody with half a mind knows Harry would follow Niall to the ends of the earth. 

“Yes, of course. Of course.” He repeats over and over like a mantra against flaxen hair and Niall holds him tight as if Harry is the one who is leaving. 

“Then I won’t go far.” He says. “Find me when this dies down, when you won’t get hurt for being around me.” Niall whispers. He reaches up and presses his lips too softly to Harry’s temples, to his cheeks, to his lips. His touch burns Harry, _it burns_ , and Harry weeps into his hands when Niall quickly makes his way out, his fleeting back the last image he leaves behind. 

When Harry finally has the energy to go into his room, he finds a music box lying in the middle of his bed, picks it up and lets it play a familiar tune. 

 

 

Harry is mad. He is so, so mad. He wants to break something, he wants to tear something to pieces just so he can have the knowledge that he is not the only thing broken in this godforsaken house. He hates the way everyone goes back to being normal, as if nothing ever happened. He wants them to know what they’ve made him do, he wants them to feel guilty. But Robin goes back to reading the paper every morning and his mother continues to greet him with tender touches, albeit a little more tentatively, and Harry could just _scream._

“Harry, have you found the deer yet?” Robin asks when Harry comes back from the fields. Lying in the fields is all Harry has the energy to do all day since. He likes to close his eyes and pretend he can smell Niall in the grass, feel him stroke his hair and kiss his cheek. 

“Not yet.” Harry grits out because holy shit, can’t they just let that stupid deer go? It’s been months already and Robin must have some nerve asking him about that deer knowing what Harry’s going through.

“You should hurry before it disappears. It might take your mind off things.” His mother chimes in and Harry knows she’s only trying to help. Bless her, but Harry just wants to be alone. And if hunting down this deer will get them to leave him be then he’ll do it. 

“Alright, alright.” He says. “I’ll go tonight.” 

 

 

When night comes, Harry wanders into the woods with tired steps and a quiver attached to his back. He walks around aimlessly, hoping to find something to bring back home. It doesn’t have to be the deer – that creature’s most likely up and gone by now. Just something that will shut everybody up and make them leave him alone. 

Stumbling over some jagged stones, Harry swears under his breath and suddenly – stops. The area seems familiar to him. The low hanging vines, the elder trees. He’s seen this before and – 

There is a lake Harry has carved into his soul and he sees it in front of him, its water glistening under the moonlight. Harry’s chest feels like it’s on fire and he wants to claw at it, rip out his heart and watch it bleed. 

But there’s something else there beside the lake and when Harry approaches it with the muted steps, he sucks in a harsh breath.

The deer.

It’s there, still here, lapping at the water of the lake. It’s quiet alluring, the way its pelt shines almost a golden colour and its speckled fur reminds him of his own horse. There is something wrong with it though, Harry thinks. It gazes up from where it drinks every so often, staring in his direction as if waiting for something. Or perhaps someone. 

Never mind though. Harry didn’t come here to study the psychology of animals. He came here to find peace. His hands are shaking but he tells himself to calm down. He’s been taught this since he was young. It’s one quick, smooth motion. He can do this. Pulling the bowstring back with clear precision, he fires the arrow straight into the animal’s stomach. 

It falls with a sickening thud and Harry runs to it with his mouth covered, hoping he doesn’t puke or – 

No. No, no, no. It’s no deer, it’s not a deer. In front of his very eyes, Harry sees the creature transform into blond hair and pale skin and knobby knees and shit, fucking shit. Someone please kill him now before he kills himself. 

Harry falls onto his knees, as if gravity is dragging him down to hell where he belongs, and he pulls that familiar figure close, his golden hair like a halo on his lap. “Niall, oh Niall.” Harry sobs with tears streaming down his face and Harry thinks he might be sick. The arrow sticks out from Niall’s stomach horrifyingly and Harry can’t bear to look at the blood. So much blood. He tries to wipe it away with his fingers but it only makes it worse and Harry can see it now, there is blood on his hands and he is a monster. 

But Niall, _oh Niall._ He reaches out slowly to Harry, stroking his cheek as he had always done and musters up a weak smile. “Harry, you found me.” He says and oh, why does Harry feel like he’s the one who’s dying?

“Shh. It’s okay, shh.” He hushes, rocking Niall back and forth and humming him a familiar tune with Niall’s pale hand in his – too pale, dangerously pale. “It’s okay, you’ll be okay.”

Niall groans and squeezes Harry’s hand. “Stop crying, I don’t want to see you cry.” He says and, like always, Harry grants him this. He sniffles and wipes his tears on his sleeve and swallows the lump lodged in his throat. “Won’t you tell me that story? About the bear in the sky.” Niall asks, looking up above them and Harry leans down to press a tender kiss to Niall’s temple, enveloping Niall with his warmth. 

“I’ll tell you another one. About a boy amongst the stars.” He says.

Harry begins with a beautiful boy lost in a forest and ends with the constellations in his arms.

**Author's Note:**

> for updates or questions, you can find me [here](http://sailorharry.tumblr.com/). (:


End file.
